Fun First Dates with Jim
by Luminara Selune
Summary: Jim Moriarty shows Sherlock a good time, he even brings Sherlock's dear pet along.


"Sherlock, Wakey, Wakey, Sherlock." A voice sounded in Sherlock's ear, high, mocking and childish. Sherlock's mind struggled to fit the pieces together through the haze in his mind.

"Come on, Sherlock," The voice continued, "Your pet has already awoken. Although, that's probably because we had to dramatically increase your dose. Wouldn't want you to wake up early due to your narcotic resistance." The voice rumbled through Sherlock's brain. He tried to connect it to anything but his brain wasn't working properly.

"Maybe I gave you a little too much. Whoops." The voice said, completely unrepentant and was interrupted by a loud grunt and the thump of a chair's back legs striking the ground, Sherlock deduced. This deduction cleared his brain a little and it suddenly occurred to him that he had eyes. With that thought, they sprang open and looked around the room, taking in every detail.

"There he is!" A voice crowed gleefully. Sherlock looked right across a nicely set table from him. Tied to a chair, mouth covered with duct tape was John, who was looking at him frantically and trying to indicate something to the right of Sherlock, and mumbling around the tape. Sherlock looked and saw Moriarty, sitting cheerfully at the head of the table, suit as impeccable as it had been the last time they had met. He waved to Sherlock.

"Me again. Hi." Moriarty said in that painfully cheerful way of his. Sherlock's eyes flickered from him to John, trying to put the pieces together through the fog still contaminating his brain. Then he looked down at himself. Duct tape, around his ankles, chest, and hands, binding him to the chair, and a piece of tape stretched across his mouth, temporarily gagging him. He knew that John was in exactly the same situation as him and hoped he would be taking the same steps to combat it. He started rolling his wrists and ankles, inflating and deflating his chest, and working his tongue, pressing it against the tape, to wet and loosen it. After several minutes he had moistened the tape enough that it lost it's hold and fell away. He took a few deep breaths before looking at Moriarty, who looked entirely too pleased that he'd gotten the tape off.

"What do you want?" He questioned of Moriarty, who smiled sickeningly at him, before walking over to John, who tired to back away as much as possible from him.

"Looks like Dr. Watson needs some help, wouldn't you say, Sherlock? We should help him with that." At this, Moriarty grabbed the tape from John's mouth and ripped it off. John flinched away but didn't make any sound. His eyes meeting Sherlock's a minute later were angry but determined. Sherlock's eyes flickered up to Moriarty who still stood right behind John.

"I ask you again, what do you want?" Sherlock asked arrogantly but with a hint of caution, careful of Moriarty's nature. Moriarty smiled gleefully at Sherlock, glad he was playing the game.

"Well Sherlock, you and I had so little time together last time, I thought it was time we remedied that." At this Sherlock gave a curt nod before questioning Moriarty again.

"Then why is John here? Surely he is not necessary to alleviate your boredom?" Moriarty shook his head but that wide smile would not leave his face.

"Oh no, Sherlock he's not here for my benefit. I simply knew that if I didn't bring him, he would have burst in at the most inconvenient time and spoiled everything. Like that time with the cabbie. He followed you quite _doggedly_ didn't he? So I thought I'd simplify the entire event and just bring you together from the start. And so here we are! The three of us together again, as it should be." Sherlock nodded again refusing to react to Moriarty's words. He looked at John, checking to see how he was holding up; he was pleased to see that John had remained stoic in the face of Moriarty's comments.

"So, you think we should spend more time together?" Sherlock asked, his voice oozing with incredulity. Moriarty looked at him, happily

"Yes, Sherlock. You got it right or rather you would have but see then I considered Johnny Boy here," Moriarty said, and with the use of that terrible nickname stroked the side of John's neck, John flinched away from the hand but Moriarty grabbed him hard around the neck. Sherlock had to struggle not to react and sat watching Moriarty's hand on John's throat.

"Ah, ah ah, careful, Dr. Watson, you wouldn't want me to get the idea that you disliked me, so don't struggle alright." As Moriarty spoke, his hand got tighter and tighter on John's throat. Moriarty met Sherlock's eyes; Moriarty's eyes had a mad glint in them.

"Stop." Sherlock said, his voice commanding, Moriarty's mouth quirked in a half-smile. His hand was still on John's throat but at least he had stopped squeezing.

"Stop? Sherlock? Really? Why I should _stop?_ Now I've got you and your dear Dr. Watson right where I want you. Why would I ever stop?" Jim asked, his hand tightening on John's throat once again. Then he laughed and let go.

"But it's fun to stop sometimes," Jim said and started sensually trailing his fingers around John's neck, " to bring someone to the point of ending and then just stop." Jim tittered, drawing his hand away from John's neck. John relaxed for the first time in several minutes. Sherlock watching carefully because that mad glint had still not left Moriarty's eyes and now he was stalking around the table, those deep black eyes focused on Sherlock. Jim slid gracefully onto the table, never letting his eyes leave Sherlock's. Sherlock wanted to shudder away from those eyes. Away from what he could see in them and away from what he could see reflected in them. He'd rather see John's eyes, trusting, caring eyes, that didn't look at him as if they thought he'd become like Moriarty in an instant. Sherlock had let his eyes unfocus so they weren't looking at Moriarty. That was a mistake he realized as he felt a warm hand curl around his chin and pull his head up. Moriarty was sitting on the table right in front of Sherlock, his legs swaying in between the chair legs.

"Where'd you go Sherlock?" Moriarty asked, but without any real question in his voice, instead there was just smugness. Sherlock felt a little anger at that and looked up and met Moriarty's eyes again. Moriarty smiled.

"There you are, back again." Moriarty said gleefully. His hand still tight on Sherlock's face. Sherlock wanted to pull his face away, but he stayed where he was and continued looking into Moriarty's eyes.


End file.
